


my gift for you

by aeneapsych



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Breathplay, Face-Fucking, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Sex, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-26
Updated: 2014-01-26
Packaged: 2018-01-10 02:18:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1153589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aeneapsych/pseuds/aeneapsych
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek wants something for his birthday, and Stiles is more than happy to oblige.</p>
            </blockquote>





	my gift for you

**Author's Note:**

> A short PWP for my amazing friend Anna's birthday! Happy birthday sweetie :D Hope you enjoy!
> 
> Not beta'd, so apologies for any grammatical errors!

Stiles rears back from the window, letting the curtain drop and hoping Derek hadn't seen him as he stepped out of his car. Dodging around the couch, Stiles runs over to the bookcase where he had set up the camera hours earlier, checking the angle for the hundredth time before turning it on to record. He flattens himself against the wall next to the front door on the side of the hinge so he would be hidden when Derek opens it. Stiles' pulse thunders in his skull as he waits, breath held. He feels his heart drop into his stomach as the key turns in the door, and he tenses his muscles, readying himself to move.

The door swings open and Derek walks through, grocery bags hanging over his arm. He yells out, “Hey, I'm back Sti-” before he's cut off.

Stiles leaps forward, slamming the door shut and grabbing onto Derek's shirt from behind. He spins Derek around to face the door and shoves him against it hard. Derek lets out a soft whoosh of breath at the impact and struggles under Stiles' grip while Stiles kicks away the cans that had spilled to the floor when Derek dropped the bags.

Pressing his body flush against Derek's and his forearm to the back of his neck, Stiles whispers in Derek's ear, “Color.”

Derek stops his frantic movements and stills underneath Stiles. “Green,” he replies, voice tight.

“Good boy,” Stiles says. As always, the complete and utter compliance and trust from Derek floors him. The fact that this man, this werewolf, who could easily buck Stiles off and throw him across the room, just lets Stiles control him, manipulate Derek with his hands as he wants, never ceases to amaze him. The thought of all of that controlled strength under Stiles' hands makes the blood rush to his cock, and he snakes his free hand around Derek's waist to unbutton and unzip Derek's jeans. With barely enough room he shoves his hand into Derek's briefs and wraps his fingers around his cock. Stiles tugs on the hardening flesh, the friction dry and rough before smearing his thumb into the wetness leaking from the tip. His knuckles grate along the wood of the door as he pumps his fist, tightening his grip until Derek punches out a moan. Stiles sinks his teeth into the meat of Derek's shoulder as he presses his hips into Derek.

Stiles pulls his hand out of Derek's pants and backs away. “On your knees over there,” Stiles says, pointing to the middle of the living room. Derek turns and his eyes follow to where Stiles wants him, and he begins to move. An idea coming to him, Stiles stops   
Derek with a hand and adds, “Go get the camera for me first; there, on the shelf.”

Derek walks to the bookshelf and grabs the camera before coming back to the center of the room and kneeling down. Stiles joins him, pulling his shirt off and pushing the waistband of his basketball shorts down his legs. He hadn't bothered to put on any underwear after he showered, so he takes himself in hand and strokes lightly as he moves in front of Derek's upturned face.

“Open,” Stiles demands.

Derek opens his mouth and sticks out his tongue, his eyes calm and passive.

Stiles takes his cock and rubs the tip along Derek's tongue, slicking through the moisture. “So fucking gorgeous,” Stiles mutters. He wraps his other hand around the back of Derek's head and slides between Derek's lips. Indescribable heat and wetness wrap around his cock as he pushes forward, stopping only when his dick hits a barrier, the back of Derek's throat. 

“Camera,” Stiles says, making a grabbing gesture with his hand. Derek gives it to him and Stiles lifts the viewfinder up to his eye. Stiles' dick twitches in Derek's mouth as his eyes focus and he sees the image through the camera, Derek's reddened lips stretching obscenely around his cock. 

Stiles begins fucking into Derek's mouth as he watches through the lens. Once he feels Derek relax his throat he snaps his hips hard, sparks shooting up his spine as he listens to the choked whimpers Derek starts to make. Stiles lets out a stream of curses under his breath while he watches his dick disappear in and out of Derek's mouth, drool slipping from the corners and tears collecting in his eyes. He tightens his fingers in Derek's hair, yanks on the soft strands as he bucks his hips faster. Orgasm threatens already, his balls drawing up tight, so Stiles stills inside Derek's mouth, not wanting to come yet. He hadn't quite anticipated how much this little fantasy of Derek's would turn him on, and he was fearful he wouldn't last through everything he had planned. When Derek mentioned this to him last week and they sat down to negotiate the parameters, Stiles had started stockpiling all of the things he wanted to try. At the rate he was going he wouldn't even last through this blowjob. 

Looking down at Derek's tear-stained face, his even breaths coming out through his nose, Stiles releases his grip on Derek's hair. Derek's eyes never move from Stiles' face as Stiles pinches Derek's nose shut, cutting off all of his air. Derek's eyes widen for a second, so fast Stiles would have missed it if he hadn't been so focused. Stiles doesn't dare pull out so he starts to grind into Derek's mouth, clenching his ass and rolling his hips. He keeps a tight hold on Derek's nose, waiting for the wordless signal they have set up for times like this. If Derek reaches up to tap Stiles on the hip he would pull out, and fast. The tap never comes, but Stiles finally pulls out once he sees Derek's eyes start to roll back into his head.

_Idiot_ , Stiles thinks as he moves the camera away from his face and pauses the recording. Derek always tries to take things further than was safe. He kneels down in front of Derek and wipes away a couple of the tears running down Derek's face with his thumb. 

“Color?” Stiles asks as he watches Derek take in several gulping breaths. 

“Green,” Derek replies after a moment, his voice dry and scratchy.

Stiles lifts his eyebrows and says, “On the couch, pants off, ass in the air.”

Derek stands on shaky legs and pushes his pants and briefs to the floor. Stiles watches as Derek yanks his shirt off and moves to the couch before he also gets up to follow Derek. Stiles puts the camera to his eye again and licks his lips as Derek climbs onto the couch, knees on the edge and head resting on folded arms on the top. He arches his back and sticks his ass out, and Stiles hums in appreciation.

Stiles reaches out and grabs onto Derek's ass, kneads the soft flesh in his fingers before landing a loud smack across it. The skin reddens momentarily before switching back to pale, and a flash of frustration at Derek's werewolf healing abilities rears up in Stiles. He smacks Derek's ass again, aiming down slightly so his pinky just grazes Derek's balls. Derek jerks forward and keens; his hands slide out along the top of the couch to grip the leather. Stiles watches Derek's hole twitch and he glances over to the table beside the couch where he placed a bottle of lube earlier. Still holding the camera to his face, Stiles turns and grabs the bottle, flicks the top open with his thumb. He tilts the bottle upside down a few inches above Derek's ass and squeezes. The clear liquid streams down onto Derek's hole and Derek jumps at the cold. 

“Oops,” Stiles says cheekily, certain that Derek is cursing him in his thoughts for not warming it first. Stiles closes the lid and tosses the bottle aside. With two fingers Stiles spreads the lube over Derek's hole, smiling as it clenches when his fingers brush over the sensitive pink skin. Without warning Stiles presses two fingers inside Derek to the knuckle and twists. The sound of fabric tearing makes Stiles look up and he sees the stuffing hanging out from the tears in the couch that Derek just made. Stiles chuckles and pulls his fingers out before thrusting them back in again, twisting his wrist each time. They fuck often enough that Stiles shouldn't need to add a third finger, so he only fucks into Derek with his fingers a few more times before pulling them out completely. Derek's hole is already loose and relaxed, and Stiles can't help hooking a finger back inside to tug on the rim. 

“Fuck, please,” Derek begs.

“Be quiet,” Stiles says and spanks him again.

He leans over to pick up the lube and finds it's not as easy to slick up his cock one-handed as he thought. Once he's ready he lines himself up to Derek's hole and presses inside. Tight heat grasps Stiles cock and he tosses his head back. Derek starts to beg again so Stiles moves his hand from Derek's hip and pushes his head into the couch cushion, muffling the sounds. Leaning forward and using his hand on Derek's head as leverage, he starts fucking him. Stiles starts the pace off fast, the way he knows Derek likes when they play like this. He puts all of his energy into the movement of his hips and the press of his hand, knowing Derek can take all that Stiles can give and more. He moves the camera to focus on Derek's ass, watches his cock slide in and out of the tight ring, slicked with lube and pre-come. Stiles snaps his head up as he hears a wooden crack. The back frame of the couch has broken from Derek's grip and Stiles loses his rhythm for a second, recovering quickly once Derek starts to buck his hips backwards to meet Stiles' thrusts. 

Stiles grips Derek's hair and yanks his head back; the change in position must have angled his cock just perfectly inside Derek because suddenly Derek shouts, and he's coming, striping the leather couch and clenching tightly around Stiles' dick. Stiles pulls out and lets go of Derek's head. He takes Derek by the hip and turns him over. Derek flops onto his back in a graceless heap and Stiles climbs over him to straddle his lap. He tips Derek's face up and aims the camera at him. A few strokes on his cock and Stiles is coming too, painting a mess all over Derek's face. After the last drops are squeezed out of his dick, Stiles rubs his come into Derek's beard, loving the sticky feel of it in contrast to the soft bristles beneath his fingers. He takes the excess and sticks his fingers into Derek's mouth, groans as Derek sucks on them to clean them off. 

All the energy sapped out of him, Stiles lowers the camera and presses the stop button. He leans over to set it down on the table next to him before he collapses next to Derek on the couch. Derek threads his fingers into Stiles' hand and squeezes. Stiles turns to look at him and he can't stop himself from smiling at the way Derek looks. His hair is a mess and his face is covered in drying come. Stiles winces as he thinks how hard it will be to get that out of his beard. 

“Happy birthday, big guy,” Stiles says.

Derek flushes and says, “Thanks. You think the video came out okay?”

“Probably,” Stiles replies. “It's a video of me fucking you. How can that be bad?”

Derek laughs as he brings Stiles' hand up to his mouth and kisses the back of it.

It's Stiles' turn to blush now. No matter how filthy they get Stiles will never get used to how adorably romantic Derek can be at times. He hopes he never gets used to it.

“Next time you go out of town I'm gonna jerk off so hard to that video,” Stiles says.

“Way to ruin the moment, Stiles,” Derek says.

END

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi on my [tumblr](http://aeneapsych.tumblr.com) :D


End file.
